


call me son one more time

by goldtitainium



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, M/M, Nomad Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Superfamily, they just need to communicate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-06 05:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17339222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldtitainium/pseuds/goldtitainium
Summary: “Peter,” Steve said, “I am-”“Not my fucking dad,” Peter hissed, “just because you’re fucking my dad doesn't make you my parent, I don't want you here, I never even fuckinglikedyou,” heknewall of his weak spots and attacked them as hard as he could, “I only pretended to to make my actual dad happy, the news was right about you, you’re not even hero,  justgoalready.” He spun on his heel and slammed the door, leaving Steve staring at the door.superfam just needs to talk to each other





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you... enjoy? idk steve is a sad dumbass, peter is an Angry Teen (tm), they talk and its all good in the end

“Hey, Peter, make sure you stay safe, ok?” Steve said, just as Peter was about to leave the house.  
“I’m not a child, Steve,” he spat, god, the news was right, Captain America was a righteous asshole. Steve sighed, “Ok, but take care of yourself, son-”

“DON’T CALL ME SON!” Peter exploded, he was so, so, over him and his smothering and taking over his whole fucking life. 

“Peter,” Steve said, stupidly calm and put together, oh, what he would do to to see him fall apart, “I am-”

“Not my fucking dad,” Peter hissed, “just because you’re fucking my dad doesn't make you my parent, I don't want you here, I never even fucking _liked_ you,” he _knew_ all of his weak spots and attacked them as hard as he could, “I only pretended to to make my actual dad happy, the news was right about you, you’re not even hero, just _go_ already.” He spun on his heel and slammed the door, leaving Steve staring at the door.

He stormed out and stewed inside the elevator, he stomped down the street and straight to the diner where he was meant to be meeting M.J and Ned.  
All his anger fizzled out when he met them and a tiny, tiny, ball of guilt formed when he left the diner, he didn't really hate Steve, but he didn’t really like him either, he had no idea what had pushed him to yell at him though. 

Annasha always said that most of their problems could be solved by just talking to each other, so, as soon as he entered their floor, he went in search of Steve.  
He couldn't find him.

* * *

“Hey dad!” Peter called, jogging down the stairs to the workshop, he heard an ‘over here Pete’ by the desk with a million monitors. There was a tiny tug on his heartstrings when he realised that that was what _Steve_ called it. Whatever. 

“Hey, uh, where’s Steve?” he asked to his dad’s back.  
Tony rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath, forcing on a smile and spun around to face Peter, “Your p- uh, Steve, is on a mission,” he said, valiantly trying not to let his voice crack, he thought he did pretty well, all things considered.  
“When, when is he coming back?” Peter asked, slightly afraid of the answer.

Tony tried to grind up at him, “He’s not, kiddo,” he said, in a rush, “he’s changed his SHIELD contract, he’s, uh, not coming back, just you and me again.”  
“Why, why isn’t he coming back? Is it, are you-”  
Tony sighed in defeat, “J, run the reel.”

JARVIS projected up a video of Steve coming down the stairs, slowly, dressed in the stealth suit with the cowl off, all in perfect 4K.

> “Hey, honey!” Tony said, brightly, leaning up to kiss Steve, frowning when he moved away, “You ok?” he asked uncertainty, “I, I thought you didn’t have another mission for a month, Steve?”
> 
> Steve moved his arm up, automatically, and then aborting the movement as soon as he realized what he was doing, “I, uh, we,” he swallowed, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, “We can’t do this anymore, and before, before you spiral, it wasn’t you, it wasn’t anything you did, it’s, cliche and I know you hate cliches, but it’s, it’s me.”
> 
> Tony blinked up at him with hurt filled eyes, “Steve, you’re, were, are the, best, where’s this coming from?” 
> 
> Steve swallowed again and leaned against the glass for support, “You remember the very first thing you told me, when we first started dating?” he asked, smiling a little at the memory.  
>  “Yeah, yeah, ‘Peter is the most important person in my life’, did, did something happen to him?” Tony said, hoarsely.
> 
> “He’s, he’s fine, it’s just, he doesn’t like me. Which is, it sounds so teen-drama-high-school-bullshit, but, those were the terms,” Steve said, strained and quiet, it took all of his strength not to just collapse into Tony’s arms there and then, to beg him to tell him what he did wrong, instead, he took another, deep, breath, “I don’t think it’s fair to tell you, but, you should know, I still love you,” he leaned in, slowly and hesitantly, lightly cupping his face and he pressed a barely there kiss to his cheek,  
>  “I’m sorry that I wasn’t good enough for you and Peter, I hope you find someone who is, both of you deserve the best. Goodbye, Tony Stark, take care of yourself.” 
> 
> He smiled one last time at him and turned around, pulling the cowl over his face, and walked away.

The projection wanked off, leaving Tony and Peter in silence, Tony rubbed a hand over his face again, Peter felt the tiny ball of guilt get heavier.  
“Dad? You gonna be ok?” Peter asked, putting a hand on his shoulder, hopefully comforting him, just because he wasn't too hot on Steve, although he might be changing his stance on that, he knew that his dad loved Steve, a lot.

Tony tried to smile up at him, “Always, kid, but next time,” he, highly, doubted there was going to be a next time, “tell me if you don’t like my boyfriend, don’t, don’t wait four years.”

Peter cleared his throat, “Yeah, yeah, sure dad.”

“I am sorry to interrupt, sirs, but Sergeant Barnes has requested for the both of you to be in the kitchen in the commonfloor. He says it’s incredibly urgent.” JARVIS’ silky smooth voice cut through whatever Tony was about to say.

Instead, he lifted himself up and swung an arm around Peter’s shoulders, “C’mon kid, lets see what frosty wants.”

“What the _fuck_ did you do to Steve,” Bucky growled, as soon as they entered the kitchen, he didn’t let them answer and just barrelled on, “I come up to your room, there’s a pile of blankets and three empty bottles of whiskey, no Steve, no shield, I’m in no less pieces than yesterday, neither are you, and Peter’s fine, so what, _the fuck_ did you do to Steve?” 

“It was me,” Peter said, quickly, he didn’t want his dad to take the heat for this. Bucky immediately got up and moved to crowded against Peter, but Tony got in between them.

“Don’t you fucking dare threaten my son, Barnes,” he said, quietly through gritted teeth. 

“ _Your son_ is responsible for my brother’s mental state, what the fuck did he do.” Bucky snarled leaning forwards.

“He broke up with me.” Tony said, quietly, for the first time, out loud. He broke up with him, and he’s not coming back.

“Bullshit.” There was no way Steve broke up with him. 

“It’s true, JARVIS?” Peter said, motioning for JARVIS to play the video Tony showed him. Bucky stayed eerily silent while the clip played, eyes flicking over to Tony to watch his reaction. As soon as it stopped, Bucky muttered an apology to both of them and then asked where he was, to stop him from doing something stupid.

“How do you know he’s gonna do something stupid?” Peter asked, he didn’t even know that Steve was going to break up with Tony, what did he know?

Bucky gave him a once over, “Last time he did the whole blanket-cocoon-try-to-get-drunk bullshit was when Peggy died, he got himself laid up in hospital for three days in a _week_ , the time before, when I died, he crashed into the fucking arctic in a week, the first time, when his ma died, he went to the worst parts of town, got himself beat up and spent a night _unconscious in a fucking alleyway._ ” 

Tony sighed, “He’s gonna do something stupid, I just, why didn’t he just _take_ to me about it.”

“I didn’t think that he would break up with dad,” Peter said, quietly, guilt colouring his voice.

Bucky gave them both a look, four years and they still couldn't get it in their thick heads how much they loved each other.  
“He would slit his throat in a heartbeat if he thought it would make you or him or me happy.”

They all stared at each other, the full weight of what Bucky said settling over them.

Peter collapsed into his dad’s arms, “I’m so, so sorry, dad, I didn’t- I- It was the bullshit on the news- and what some idiots said at school- and I know- but- And I don’t fucking-”  
Tony held him closer and shushed him, “It’s not your fault, Peter, we’ll find him before he does something dumb.” 

“I hate to interrupt this, but, don’t, don’t run after him right now, he needs some space,” Bucky advised them, stalking out of the room.

* * *

“He revised his contract to what it was before he was… happy,” Agent Hill said, “he’s on a two month mission. No outside contact” 

“Dad, dad,” Peter tapped Tony on the shoulder, “what, what was his contract before?”  
Tony sighed and turned to him, “I, I don’t know the extent of it, but he was barely ever stateside.” 

“Oh,” Peter said, staring at his shoes. 

Hill seemingly took pity on him, “When he comes back, I can tell him you asked after him.”  
Tony tried to smile at her, “Thanks, Agent.”

* * *

Captain America went down in a hail of bullets, in an undisclosed location, alone. 

They couldn't find the body. 

The Avengers carried an empty coffin, Tony Stark was meant to give the eulogy. He broke down before he could get the first word out. 

Peter Parker took over, saying everything about his pops he wish he could have said when he was… still around. 

Even the ever-stoic James Barnes cried, wondering if Steve’s blanket-whiskey-bullshit actually worked.


	2. 2.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve's side, part. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its gotta get worse before it gets better, my dudes

Steve’s head was still spinning, everything Peter had said on a constant loop in his head, overlaid with every moment in the last four years with him, and Peter and Tony, trying to pinpoint where he went wrong, what he did, when he should have changed, what he should have changed, when he should have left. 

He’d asked Peter, years ago, if he was ok with him dating his dad, and he’d given him the go ahead. He was the first person he’d asked, before Rhodey, before Pepper, before Bruce had a chance to give him shovel talks.

He could barely stomach the fact that Peter had been just _putting up_ with him, just to protect Tony, for his happiness. Tony had told Peter how much he cared about Steve, and he’d told Steve that Peter will always be his priority, Peter and his happiness and safety, _oh God,_ what if Peter had felt unsafe around him.  
He was more than aware of all the issues he had, countless nights interrupted by his nightmares, screaming, flashbacks at stupid times, times when he couldn’t get out of bed for _no fucking reason._

And he’s tried so, so hard, to hide it all, and make sure that neither Peter or Tony saw any of it, Peter was a _kid_ he didn’t need to see any of it, Tony was dealing with all of his stuff, in a healthy way, and he was so, so proud of him, so he didn't need to deal with any of his stuff. But, evidently, he didn’t try hard enough.

Steve tugged his blankets tighter around him and drained the last of the whiskey, he looked around at the empty room, stripped bare of all his possessions. He hadn’t lived here for years, and it showed, Tony didn’t have anything to do with the room so he just left it as it was. Steve would have gone up to their- _Tony’s_ room, but he was no longer welcome. 

_He was fucking pathetic._ Sitting in a room feeling sorry for himself, when he still had something - the serum. He had to do good with it, he couldn’t just, become complacent, lazy.  
With shaking hands he rummaged around for a phone and called Agent Hill, requesting to change his SHIELD contract, back to what it was a couple years ago. 

He ignored the tiny, screaming voice in the corner of his brain, telling him that this was exactly what he did before he and Tony became a Thing, reminding him how fucking _miserable_ he’d been, how lonely, and scared, and homesick he’d been.  
How he couldn’t go back.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, letting the tiny voice scream and yell itself hoarse, drowned out in attempts to convince himself that this was the right thing to do, in the best interests of everyone. Because it _was._

Attempting, then failing, to shove off all thoughts of _what ifs_ , and _if onlys_ , he got up, letting the blankets fall off him and pool on the floor, knocking over two out of three empty bottles, and looked down at himself. He had his stealth suit on, but unfastened and his cowl lying atop his shield a couple feet away, _get yourself together Rogers._

With his still shaking fingers he fastened all the clasps and buckles, standing straight up, shoulders back, chin up, and swung the shield on his back, the weight greater than ever, more than the first time he’d lifted it, the full responsibility of being Captain America finally settling onto his shoulders, more than when he’d thrown it into the Potomac, physically, mentally, unable to carry it.

He went to pull on his cowl, ready to steel himself for The Conversation with Tony, but, he needed to be Steve Rogers for it, not Captain America, Tony deserved as much as for him to not be a coward. Even if it made him a liar.

> What they had, it was so, so new, and foreign to him, in so many ways. It was his first relationship in the ~~new~~ _current_ century, it was his first, proper, relationship with a guy, everything else had been in the back alleys of Brooklyn with a rag stuffed into his mouth, or snuck into apartments on the other side of town at the dead of night, taking every precaution not to get caught, and it was already his _longest_ relationship. 
> 
> Compared to Tony, he was ridiculously inexperienced, not even just relationship-wise, he was younger than Tony by a whole 15 years, he’d gone to _art school_ , for a year, one single year, and he wasn’t even that acquainted with the century.
> 
> And that wasn’t even touching anything to do with Peter or what they called _PTSD_ now, and all the other things he was too busy to deal with.
> 
> Yet, Tony _still_ thought he was the best guy for him. 
> 
> He really, really didn't want to fuck one of the best things that had ever happened to him up.
> 
> What left him stunned, confused and discombobulated (blame Clint), was that Tony felt something similar, that, in his words, he was going to get sick of him and his issues and ‘designer baggage’ and eventually leave him.
> 
> “Tony,” Steve said, rushing forwards, cupping his face and gently tilting it up, making eye-contact with him, “nothing’s for certain, you, of all people should know that, but, I know, that I will always love you-”
> 
> “You can’t know that,” Tony interrupted, blinking up at him.
> 
> Steve kissed him softly, “Tony, I’m planning to stay for as long as you’ll have me, unless you want me to go, I promise you, Tony Stark, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He tore off a sheet of paper from a sketchbook and scrawled out a note, he knew it was a shitty way to say goodbye, but he didn’t think he had it in him to do it face-to-face. _Fucking coward._  
He was planning to fucking mail it. From Europe.

Steve Rogers was everything he’d promised himself he’d never be.

Seemed to be a day for breaking promises, he thought to himself, making his way down for what was no doubt going to be the hardest conversation of his life.  
After, attempting to burn every desire to run back to him and beg for his forgiveness, or to crumple into a ball and just cry and cry, he took a couple (barely) steadying breaths, making his way to the roof to wait for the helicarrier, flicking through his issued-phone to check how long he had. 

He leaned over the balcony, half empty pack of Camels and a lighter propped on it, with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, head bowed between his shoulders. Usually, the smoke always calmed him down, reminded him of the camaraderie from before, of the fun times of the war, huddled around a campfire, trading stories and barbs. But now, while it settled, _something_ , inside him, a near Pavlovian response to the smell, the taste and the repetitive action, it just felt like his shovel at rock bottom.  
Tony _hated_ everything about his smoking, even if it couldn't kill him, he hated the taste and the smell. He didn't try to actively get him to stop, he of all people was well aware of vices and their effects, but he refused to kiss him after he smoked, always pushed a piece of minty gum between his lips until he learned to buy (or get JARVIS to buy) a pack of gum with his cigarettes. 

He stumped out his burned up cigarette on the back of his hand, a habit from back in the war, barely feeling the burn, and buckled up his cowl and tugged on his gloves, shifting into parade rest when the helicarrier docked on the landing pad, ready to take him somewhere in Europe, maybe. He’d asked for a longer mission, like the ones he’d gone on years ago, working on taking down Hydra camps. 

By the time he’d gotten to wherever-the-fuck, found where he was meant to be staying and where he was meant to be punching Nazis, it was dusk and the post-office was five minutes from closing, enough time for him to buy a stamp and get the letter sent off.

The letter was stupidly short, but he couldn't think of anything else to say, what a leader he was.

> Team,
> 
> I’m, moving out, going to fight Nazis, I guess. I’ll be gone for a while, you know the protocols, don’t worry.  
>  Don’t get dead, stay safe and take care of yourselves, all of you.
> 
> Steve Rogers.

When he came back to his motel, Steve tried to stretch out on the bed, but his limbs just hit the wall at awkward angles. He sighed and sat up properly, giving up on even attempting to sleep in favour of going over his mission brief and staking out the area.

Time to be Captain America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!
> 
> tumblr: nohalfway

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! all comments and kudos are incredibly appreciated!!  
> tumblr:nohalfway


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